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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25241446">Clepsydra</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lachanophobic/pseuds/Lachanophobic'>Lachanophobic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Ball</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Angst, Drama, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Romance, Sex, Slice of Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:13:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,622</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25241446</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lachanophobic/pseuds/Lachanophobic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In a tiny, tiny borough among the hills, there is a shop. A shop of antiques, run by the young, eclectic Bulma. One day, she receives the visit of a cranky old man, who entrusts her a rusty watch, asking her to restore it.</p><p>Little does she know, that her reckless curiosity and the heirloom are going to change her life <i>forever.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bulma Briefs/Vegeta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>155</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>337</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ok. So I'm finally here publishing this thing, that somehow you created with me on Twitter; thanks to the polls. As many already know, it was supposed to be a one-shot but turned over 17k. So, for that reason, I decided to cut it into 5 chapters. They'll be published every Monday, starting from today.</p><p>I must say, that I'm proud of how this turned out. And I'm a bit sad that it's already finished (for me.) Well, I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing!</p><p> </p><p>Remember to leave your impression! (If you want.)</p><div class="center">
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <br/></p>
</div>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Whoever would enter the shop, usually didn't stay more than a couple of minutes. They'd stroll around, faking interest for the old ceramic plate, of the sixth dynasty, precariously balanced on its stand. She'd put on her best business smile, trying to hide the eyebrow that would inevitably twitch; at the sight of some customer's kid poking at her 18th-century oak drop leaf gate leg table. </p><p>"Uhhh... how much is this?" Was the most quoted query, even though the price tag sat <em> right in front </em> of the object in question. She'd reply nonetheless, holding that curve on her face as if it was carved there. And punctually, the passerby would skedaddle away with a: <em> 'Interesting. Maybe I'll come back later.' </em></p><p>But they never did.</p><p>She was so accustomed to that behavior now, that she had started not to mind it anymore; satisfied to just sit there and consume her day restoring the few antiques people brought to her, tinkering with their old mechanisms or polishing rust away from them. The final result was always astounding, like seeing it for the first time. </p><p>The moment she favored the most was dusk, especially during summer, when the sun would bleed far behind the tips of the green hills and the tiny roofs of their town. Around eight, it cast its strongest, red-purple glow through the small hopper window at the top of the room, painting a curious play of lights among the glassware. At that hour, her shop would turn into a life-sized kaleidoscope. </p><p>She never missed the show. Contrary to every other day, when the magic turned on, Bulma was sitting elsewhere, in the lab-room adjacent to the shop. </p><p>She swatted away a stray cerulean lock that had escaped the confines of her messy chignon, fastening her teeth-grip around the tip of the thin brush in her mouth. Outside, the strong buzzing of cicadas, that had kept her company all day, had subsided, leaving behind just the rare chit-chat of people roaming up and down the alley. Her gaze was focused on the delicate surface of a fob watch. Someone had brought it to her a week ago, an old, dignified, and white-bearded man in his eighties that might as well have been an exposition in her shop. The tides of time hadn't been particularly clement with his back, forcing him to curve into an old cane. </p><p>Nonetheless, she had noticed that he obtusely tried to straighten up, even if it was evidently uncomfortable. He hadn't been very eloquent. He just put the rusty timepiece on the reception desk, indicating the smudges of copper, that crept upon its original gold-coated lid and hiding whatever design was originally carved on top of it. </p><p>"Can you restore it?" He had asked that question with barbed diffidence, sounding more like he was expecting her to pull out a college degree or something. </p><p>She liked it when the owner of an antique showed respect for the heirloom. For that reason, she replied with the utmost determination that yes, he was indeed in the right place. </p><p>The man hadn't lost the shadow of qualm glazing in his cutting eyes, but still, in the end, he had reluctantly agreed to leave the watch to her. </p><p>"You are to just remove the rust. <em> Nothing else</em>." He had added, with a guttural snarl. "Am I clear?" </p><p>Working in this field had taught her that most of the objects entrusted to her had a special meaning for the owner. Especially the senior customers were distrusting and thus spent plenty of time into making sure their heirlooms ended up in the right hands. </p><p>"Crystal clear, sir," she joked, but the man didn't seem to appreciate her tentative clowning. His bushy, greyish eyebrows dipped further at the center of his forehead, making him look scarier than he already was. </p><p>"Remember. <em> Nothing else</em>." He added when he had turned already, with his back facing her. </p><p>Then, the bell on the door chimed his exit.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>Maybe she had been too fierce in her statement or had underestimated the warning stare of the man. Working on the watch for three consecutive days had proven useless. No matter what type of solvents she utilized or how carefully she tried to scrape away the rusted smudges. It didn't budge. She had never seen such obstinate oxidation. But being one of a kind wouldn't exempt it from <em> remotion.</em></p><p>Forthwith, every tool she possessed ended up scattered on the working table of the little lab. She held up the pocket watch against the light of a desk lamp, thumbing the opaque surface of it, to try to figure out the original incision under the rust. It seemed like a symbol with three vectorial-like arrows pointing in three different directions, the central one to the sky, while the other two were drawn slantwise, aimed one to the East and the other to the West. The rest of it was hidden under the rust. It could have been a trident... the shape reminded her of one. Or a strange, rudimental compass. It was hard to find out. </p><p>She couldn't help but be drawn to whatever kind of story might lie behind objects, it was her job, after all. She was a scavenger of time without a license. </p><p>Tilting her head, Bulma let the watch slip from her fingers, grabbing it by its golden chain and let it sway in front of her eyes. This kind of pocket watch was really, really old. She had a similar one in the shop not long ago; they were produced in the Capital a couple of centuries ago. Perhaps, it belonged to some ancestor of the old man, stuff handed down from generation to generation.</p><p>Maybe it was the gift of a fine lady, or a wedding gift, or something he got from some fortunate heredity. It was expensive, no joke on that. Very much so. Therefore, she could see why the old man warned her not to touch it too much. She still hadn't peeked inside. After all, nobody had forbidden her to give a quick glance at the quadrant. Casually, as if by accident, she moved her thumb on the latch release, and the cover clicked open.</p><p>Inside it wasn't much different from the other pocket watches she had owned in the past. Her eyebrows crinkled with disappointment. </p><p>"What? It's past ten already?!" She leaped from her seat, throwing a glance outside. No. It mustn't be. There was still daylight. She checked her own wristwatch, which pointed at five pm. Why was that thing five hours ahead? </p><p>Could it be a habit of that old man? It wasn't so uncustomary to see people adjust time according to their own personal agendas or needs. Or maybe, he hadn't noticed it? </p><p>Without thinking, or maybe thinking too much, she carefully rolled the crown, shifting the hands of the clock backward, where they were supposed to be. Satisfied, she placed the watch on the desk and rose to stretch and grab a quick snack from the mini-fridge in the corner of the room. </p><p>That fridge was basically the mirror of her life: disastrously unhealthy with splotches of green somewhere in the very back. She wiggled her ass at the rhythm of her whistling and, grabbed a box of cold fusilli, opened the lid and sniffed the contents. Upon determining it was still edible, she rose and grabbed a fork from a drawer, stabbed one of the little curls of pasta and-</p><p>It never reached her mouth.</p><p>She stood still, with her mouth half-agape and the fork raised midair. In front of her was a man. A <em> young, </em> breathless customer she had never seen before in her shop. </p><p>A very attractive one to boot, in the town colonized by old mummies. </p><p>Fuck. She was a mess. Of all the days.</p><p>"Oh...uh," she scrambled to fling away the box in her hands, awkwardly removing the ugly scrunchy from her hair to let them down. Puffing up her disheveled head, she said: "Aw, I'm sorry. I didn't hear the door opening. I was taking a break- as...uhm… you probably sa-" </p><p>The guy in front of her just kept glaring at her, and she hadn't even finished the sentence when he was all up in her face. </p><p>"You opened it!" He barked, making all of the hairs in her body stand up at once.</p><p>She backed away, her eyes widening in shock. "What?" She babbled, but he did not stop yelling.</p><p>"I told you not to touch <em> anything else</em>, stupid kid!" </p><p>What, in the damned, frozen hell was that psycho talking about? But the moment he started to <em> insult </em>her, it didn’t really matter anymore.</p><p>"Who in the world do you think you are?" She puffed out her chest, poking him out of her way. "Walking into <em>my shop </em>and shouting like some crazy fishmonger when it's <em>evidently</em> <em>closed</em>?" </p><p>He set his jaw and pushed back now. "U-unrespectful brat," he half-stuttered in a nasal gruff. "The <em> pocket watch </em> you had to polish<em>!" </em></p><p>Bulma halted and, quirking a fine brow, squeezed her eyes regarding him with suspicion. "Yes, I have one… what does  that have to do with you?" </p><p>"'<em>What' </em> you ask…<em>? </em>Look at me." </p><p>Well, she undoubtedly <em> looked </em> at him. As rude as he might be, he certainly didn't lack in the <em> meat </em> department. Especially wearing clothes so tight, as if he had bought them for the sole purpose of leaving little to nothing to the imagination. </p><p>She scanned him <em> thoroughly</em>, feasting her eyes on his nicely sculpted form, from head to toe and back again. Crossing her arms, she wiggled her brows. "Finest merchandise, I give that to you. But I don't see what <em> this </em> has to do with <em> that." </em></p><p>She jerked her chin at the watch sitting on her desk. "I can just evaluate antiques, and you definitely don't fall in such a category, my pretty boorish boy."</p><p>For a moment, he seemed so distraught by her aggressive compliments, that his mouth simply hung parted for a while. Once recovered, the man sniffed dismissively, moving his gaze to the incriminated object. "I'm taking it back."</p><p>"I don't think so!" Bulma sprung up in front of the desk before he could even move a step in that direction. "First of all, who are you? And what do you want with that watch? Are you a relative? A thief? Well, of course, you wouldn't tell me tha-"</p><p>"I'm the one who gave you that watch, which was evidently a mistake. Now move." </p><p>"Yeah, sure." She was starting to seriously consider the chance that this dude might have some loose screws, which was a pity because all the boys had migrated to bigger cities because this little town had not much to offer. "You're trying to tell me you are the same surly, <em> old man </em>who commissioned this job to me-"</p><p>"Watch your mouth." </p><p>"You're seriously out of-"</p><p>"I had <em> expressly </em> asked you not to touch anything else. You moved the arms of the clock backward, didn't you?"</p><p>She backed away so fast against the desk that she unconsciously ended up climbing on top of it. "Y...you were spying on me." She swallowed, "I...in no way you can be…" </p><p>But now that she <em> truly </em>observed him, she could definitely spot some similarities. The cut of his sharp, hawk-like eyes. The way he seemed to stubbornly force his back straight, as if by habit. The way his voice tended to sound a little more guttural when he raised it. </p><p>No, she was just being influenced by his words, that's why she had started to spot inexistent resemblances. The old man had short, finely combed hair, a dignified deportment-- this boy was the exact opposite. He had a wild, fire shaped mane he sported over that impossible, cyclopean, almost hilarious… </p><p>...widow’s peak.</p><p>He had been standing there, arms crossed and fingers drumming against his forearm as if waiting for her to finally realize. And when she finally did, he knew, too. </p><p>"O...okay but, how did you...all of that…" she circled her trembling finger in the air.</p><p>"How <b> <em>you</em> </b> <em> did."  </em></p><p>The antiquarian swallowed down whatever had started to come up, still hugging her legs as if trying to get away from a venomous spider. She was absolutely into this kind of thing; at the end of the day, she was surrounded by objects whose stories or legends were linked to anthems or possessions. But they were <em> urban lores </em> - often made up to increase the commercial value of the item. But this, <em> this was happening in front of her own eyes </em> and to say she wasn't scared shitless would be a lie. </p><p>Why should she believe this man, though? What evidence, besides the uncanny likeness with the old grandpa, did he have? Possibly, the grandpa too, had contrived that creepy anecdote just to try to sell the watch in a second moment. </p><p>Unexpectedly, her rattling teeth didn't rattle anymore. "Why should I believe you? Can you show me that what you say it's true? For all I know, you could just be a charlatan who dragged his poor grandpa into a scam." </p><p>"I have not and <em> need not </em> prove anything to you. I came back exclusively to retrieve that heirloom."</p><p>She pursed her lips. "I'm afraid I can only return the watch to the one that brought it to me. It's called bureaucra...no! Don't shoot at me! Take whatever you want! I'm too pretty to die! I-I'm still a virgin!"</p><p>The man that had slipped his hand inside the too-tight jacket he wore, stopped just for a second to stare at her squirming form, nonplussed.  </p><p>Not hearing any shots, Bulma squinted open an eye, finding herself blinking at the document he was handing over.</p><p>"Uh… thank you." She found herself clumsily taking it from his hands. Her fingers still shook around the laminated card. The photo ID without a shadow of a doubt corresponded to the old man,  and so did the name he had communicated the day he had dropped the heirloom to her. But again, this proved nothing. He could have just borrowed the document… or… stolen it. </p><p>"Okay, okay… " she gave back the ID to the alleged 'Vegeta' and jumped off the desk, careful to still keep a safe distance. "Let's pretend that I believe you. Brass tacks, when I fiddled with the clock I sort of turned back time for you?" </p><p>"More or less." </p><p>To Bulma, that man felt elusive. As if all he truly wanted was to escape from that room. </p><p>"Well, isn't that great?" She smiled nervously, "I mean, do you know how many people would sell their soul to be in your place?" </p><p>The wintry, penetrant glare he gave her in return made her shiver. "<em>Great…" </em> he repeated, and there was so much contempt in that single word...so much <em> hatred </em> that Bulma felt almost compelled to apologize.</p><p>But before she could say anything at all, he moved toward a chair, and there he sat. </p><p>"Hey! What are you doing?"</p><p>"I'm not setting foot outside without my belongings." The chair creaked under his weight as he crossed his legs.</p><p>"What? Ohhh come on, are you telling me you're going to stay here until I give you that watch? That's <em> not </em> gonna happen."</p><p>The man smirked. </p><p>"Try me."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes, I said Monday. I know. But I was just to excited and I could barely contain myself from just dropping all of the fic here in one go. </p><p>Thanks for those who commented or left kudos on the first chapter. I was so surprised it reached 100 kudos in a few days. </p><p>Thank you guys! For reals. You don't know how proud this makes me and how much your support fills my heart!</p><p>This chapter will be longer ;) and hopefully, to your liking.</p><p>See you in the next installment, that will be delivered sooner than you expect ❤️😘</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Look at the bright side, you hired a watchdog without asking for one...and for free." </p><p>"Don't push me, I can't see!" </p><p>"Well damn, you got a new piece of fine art there, hon." </p><p>Bulma sighed, it's not like she didn't want them to come over. But as soon as they discovered that a stranger was basically squatting in her lab, her girlfriends had invaded the shop to get a peek of the mysterious man. Now they were all lined up like a mini totem behind the door, sneaking glances and muttering appreciations. </p><p>"He can hear you, you know?" She padded toward the entrance, flipping the 'closed' tab hung by the door. In no way could she open her shop with this estrogen invasion going on. </p><p>Eighteen, which was the name her blond girlfriend went by since she met her - nobody knew what her real name was - turned over, flipped her bronze-stricken locks, and searched for her gaze, abandoning the other two to their peeping affair.</p><p>"You should have called the cops on him." She was straightforward, never beating around the bush, and always wore an unreadable expression on that apparent cold face of hers. "He could kill you in your sleep."</p><p>"Well…" Bulma began.</p><p>"She's right!" The '<em>Raven Amazon', that also went by Chichi</em>, cut her off passionately. "You don't even know the guy! He must have made up that story just to get in your pants." </p><p><em> That </em>was certainly a big leap from dying by his hand. </p><p>"You two are just envious because that hot mustang has crashed at Bulma's and not at your houses." The last and most dangerous of them all, Launch, stepped away from the door and walked up to her, snaking a hand around Bulma's shoulder. "Don't mind those wenches, they just miss dicks in their lives."</p><p>"Actually that would be you," Chichi scoffed, "I <em> must </em> remind you that I'm happily married." </p><p>"Your sour mood tells me you haven't ridden that dick lately, or else you wouldn't be here."</p><p>"For your information Goku and I-" </p><p>"Will you cut it out?" Bulma jumped in, frustration making her brow flip-flop. "I tried to chase him out all week, but he's unbudging. He said he won't leave without that watch."</p><p>"Just give it to him and problem solved," Launch grinned, "...but you don't really want<em> that, right</em>?" She elbowed her in the ribcage, "because he's totally <em> your type."  </em></p><p>"That's <em> not </em> the reason... <em> well, not entirely</em>. I mean…" Bulma cupped her hand in front of her mouth, whispering "what if what he says <em> is true</em>? That'd be <em> out of this world. </em>If the news were to spread-"</p><p>"Your sales would skyrocket to the moon," Launch added, rubbing her chin.</p><p>"Well, there's that...too. He must be like...eighty or something?"</p><p>"Isn't that <em>cool</em>? Imagine <b>all</b> <em>that knowledge</em> applied in bed. He’d be the perfect catch for a first-timer." </p><p>“Oh, then that solves everything! A man barges in my shop, disrupts my life, refuses to leave until I consign him an object that probably doesn’t even belong to him… but, as a perfect host, it would be <em> just </em> proper if I offered him lobster and caviar with a seasoning <em> of pussy</em>.”</p><p>"Oh, will you leave her alone?" Chichi approached and pushed Launch away, "Don't listen to that thirsty bitch, but you should really call the police if this guy is harassing you..." she put both of her hands on Bulma's shoulders, patting them twice. "You know you can count on us."</p><p>Bulma just threw a fleeting glance at the semi-closed door that gave to her lab. "No... he's not harassing me. Actually, he just sits there or leans against a wall for the majority of the time...just looking at the clock."</p><p>Chichi shuddered, "Yikes! That's creepy."</p><p>"Maybe…" she walked closer to the door, contemplating the still figure of the man sitting silently on the same chair he had claimed seven days prior, "but it doesn't bother me that much."</p><p>"You just stay out of trouble," she heard Eighteen say, "since trouble is your middle name." </p><p>Bulma turned slightly over her shoulder, winking at her. "I can't promise that, but I'll try."</p><p>---</p><p>When the girls finally left it was already evening and, in the end, the shop had stayed closed almost all day. She saw them off and waited until their heads had vanished over the little concrete hill-climbing toward the center of the town. The sun was finally setting, and the first small lanterns hanging by the few shops in her same alley would light up soon with warm glows. She didn't go back into the shop yet, leaning against the entrance door to feel the faint breath of the summer wind against her bare legs and arms. </p><p>The truth was that she didn't know what to do with that situation. And the fact that <em> his </em> presence didn't bother her as it should, was as illogical as the whole ordeal itself. Catching her hands behind her back, the antiquarian sighed at the sky. She was so used to the stillness of that town, that looked almost frozen in time; with its stony architecture and old shops and people. In the past, she used to be a social butterfly. Always in motion and never belonging really anywhere. Having more degrees than she actually needed, but never actually satisfied with being herself. It was coming to this place that saved her from losing her identity. Coming here with her sister and grandfather, living a <em> normal </em> life. Losing them…</p><p>She shook her head, tied back her hair into a high ponytail and went in the shop; to her lab, where she found him standing on the door; emerging from the plays of red and gold the waning sun cast in the room. His gaze was hooded, unreadable, uncharacteristically calm for one that just a few days before had barged in the shop yelling like a crazed psycho. </p><p>"I wonder" she started, stretching her hands overhead, casually, "why don't you just grab the watch and flee? It wouldn't be that difficult for you to just knock me unconscious and get away with it." </p><p>He didn't respond immediately, but looked up to finally meet her eyes. He always bore the same expression, as if he was angry at life and tried to hide the bitter melancholy that lingered in his eyes under a scowl. </p><p>"I have time," was all he offered.</p><p><em> Thanks to you</em>, she found herself adding. Her eyes went downcast. "Say, I still don't quite believe your story… but since 'you' entrusted that heirloom to me, may I ask what's the story behind it? You'll agree with me that it's hard to think that you might really be the same old man that strode in the shop that day." </p><p>"There is no story to tell. It just works like that. It’s been like this since I'm born." </p><p>Bulma found the courage to lift her gaze to him again, drawn by his words and curious as a kid forbidden to open a door. She never stepped too close to him, as if a wrong move could scare him away. She dragged an old low stool under her ass, dropping there, nonchalant. "You seem used to it," she ventured.</p><p><em> Vegeta</em>, or whatever his name was, gave her a warning look, wordlessly threatening her not to overstep the boundaries. But he had been the one daring first. The one involving her and also, assumingly, the one that had put that watch so dear to him in her hands. Therefore, she felt no fault in wanting to know more. </p><p>He seemed to get that, somehow, by the way his face turned away sharply, as if his whole body was itching, like seven days ago, to bolt as far as possible. But he didn't. </p><p>"I used to do that myself." He attempted, his voice sounded severe and tired, but his expression was tense, awkwardly pulled into a juvenile sneer. It clashed so much with the <em> academic </em> posture of his body.  The <em> lie </em>he was telling was coming to life in the language of his body, as if the old and the young were struggling to emerge at once. It fascinated her to no end. What if she'd try to believe him? What would happen, then? </p><p>Her eyes shone with marvel, expectation. "You can do it yourself? I sort of figured it would take another person or something to make it work, like a malus, you know… but if you can, why then…"</p><p>"You're asking too many questions." Sharp. It was so sharp that it actually shut her up, leaving just a trail of uncomfortable silence between them.</p><p>His stomach broke it. <em>Growling</em>.</p><p>"Right. My little fridge must be empty, uh? You raided it," she snickered.</p><p>"Just another drag of youth." He turned away, and if it wasn't for the crimson glint of the sun, she'd swear his cheeks were flushed with humiliation. </p><p>Bulma cupped her face in her palm and tilted it. "You don't have to do that anymore...you know?"</p><p>"Do what?"</p><p>"The first thing I noticed when you first set foot in here, was the singular way in which you tried to keep your curved back straight… you're doing that now, too. But your back is already straight as an arrow." </p><p>Suddenly, he seemed self-conscious of his quirk, and at her words, his shoulders instantaneously drooped. </p><p>
  <em> Whoops.</em>
</p><p>"What about you join me for dinner? The watch isn't going to run away and it looks like we both need to put some food in our body."</p><p>The slanted glance he shot at her, <em> now </em> , truly evoked the image of that old man of seven days ago. The same diffidence glazing in his deep, black eyes. Identical was too, the barest hint of that upper lip curling up in a grimace. The deep crease between his furrowed, dark eyebrows. With every new detail she piqued, reality and fantasy enmeshed, bringing her a step closer to truly <em> believe.  </em></p><p>"Fine." He mumbled, getting ahead of her toward the door.</p><p>Which he opened. Waiting for her to pass through.</p><p>Bulma blinked. And blinked again. </p><p>"What? Did you change your mind?"</p><p>She shook her head. "No... it's just…" she stifled a burst of amused laughter, "nevermind." </p><p>At this rate, believing him might be just a matter of <em> time</em>.</p><p>---</p><p>Hours became days and days turned into seasons. She resumed her job on the clock and, as its crusted surface started to chip off, Vegeta's attitude towards her also slowly began to change. </p><p>It had started with dinner, which had turned into a sort of rite. They shared it silently, sometimes in the little restaurant down the street, sometimes in her lab, whilst she worked on her antiques. He always sat there, watching the watch… or... watching <em>her</em>. He still didn't share much about him or his past. Just bits and pieces, of food he liked, or places he had seen. But never <em> something about the watch.  </em></p><p>It was December, a particularly chilly evening, the little terracotta stove in the corner snorted puffs of smoke whilst the wood inside it crackled pleasurably. She had managed to polish half of the rust, and now, the incision under it shone a bright gold. It looked like half of a crown, or again, still a trident sitting on a semi-circle.</p><p>"Is this a family crest or something?" she asked, looking up from the watch after hours of focusing on it. She met with Vegeta's gaze, across the room, and instantly, hers went downcast. She had grown used to be observed, but with that habit, something had started to shift in the way she welcomed it. She could barely stand the weight of his vacant stare, simply, because it wasn't <em> that vacant </em> anymore.</p><p>It wasn't like the contempt his eyes were filled with when he looked at the watch. It wasn't like the infinite sadness that shadowed them sometimes and not even the severe or surly warning they seemed to be naturally imbued with. It was <em> interest, </em> concentration, it was like he was analyzing her very soul to find some swindle. And it made her painfully self-conscious. Painfully <em> aware </em> of that subtle change in his attention. He didn't hide it. And that confused her.</p><p>"I don't know," he whispered, his back was flat against the wall next to the stove. "When I received it, I was barely a newborn." </p><p>Whenever he opened up a little, his gaze would shy away out of the window, looking far into the darkness of the streets as if to search for blurred memories. And she thought, more than once, how <em> painfully </em> handsome he was. It was strange that everything associated with that man made her chest ache with pain. Not quite the pain of a crush, just plain pain. </p><p>"How old are you now?" It escaped her lips like a mishap, and she chided herself for returning on the subject. He always tensed up at that kind of question, like a cat freezing in front of sudden light. </p><p>"Thirty." </p><p>She gaped. It was the first time, in months, that he hadn't evaded the question. And surprise and thrill enmeshed, overwhelmed her like a tide. She felt emboldened.</p><p>"How does it work? The… watch." Her words were tentative, timid, but daring.</p><p>The silence stretched long, broken by the occasional sputtering and flaring of the fire of the stove.</p><p>Then, when the prospect of receiving another lucky reply was already gone, he spoke again.</p><p>"Every hour is ten years. It can just go back, never the contrary." </p><p>"Ten years, uh? So you were around eighty before the whole go-back-in-time accident, as I suspected…" Bulma muttered, chewing on the tip of a brush, as it was her habit. </p><p>"Much older." He confessed. </p><p>The brush fell from her lips, on her lap. "How...many times did you…"</p><p>"Enough." The sharpness in his voice didn't mean that he did it enough times, it just meant that he wasn't prone to talk about it any further.</p><p>But still, still, still!</p><p>Her curiosity was reaching the stars, and she ignored the warning. "Vegeta you are immortal! You could be!" She jumped up from her seat and moved, no, rushed closer. So close that she forced her interlocutor up against the wall, eyes-wide, thrown aback by her sudden rush of adrenaline.</p><p>"Why then, why didn't you turn back the time again? Why were you so angry that I did so? You could never age. Stay always young, you could...<em> coul...d…" </em> her voice grew smaller as Vegeta's lids progressively narrowed, the rage mounting in his eyes left unbridled, bare and wild.</p><p>"You wouldn't know what it means to be addicted to time. You can't possibly know… what it means… wanting to die, knowing how,  but being too scared to let go. Of having nothing to lose, because you have nothing to gain. <em> Immortality? </em> There's no such thing as that. Not if you're tied to that shit. <em> You </em> cannot… possibly… <em> know that." </em>As he marked those words like a clock would tick time, her heart shook; shook with fright, with grief, with anger… and all those emotions run free on her face, for him to see.</p><p>And he saw, and seeing, made him slip away once again. He seldom left that room, but that evening, he did.</p><p>An hour later, the timer in the kitchenette announced that the dinner was ready. </p><p>Nobody ate it.</p><p>---</p><p>Several days passed, and even if Vegeta came back, he kept avoiding her at all costs. Even if they were in the same room, he’d keep his gaze fixated on the clock, and if not, he moved it outside. When he wasn’t in the lab, he was in the little backyard she used as a shed. It had happened just recently, that he had started to exercise. It didn’t matter if it was cold, if it snowed or not, if rained; when he went outside, Vegeta stayed there and trained until he couldn’t take anymore. </p><p>She wondered the reason.</p><p>He seemed to dislike his current condition, to have reverted back to being a young man. But still, that back of his kept stretching and curving, and stretching and curving… obsessively. Was it because she had pointed that detail out? What had happened to his back? Was it just a sort of mania? </p><p>Also… there was another mystery right under her nose. The watch. The rust was there again, right where it was when Vegeta had handed the heirloom to her. It had grown back, like a weed. And she couldn’t find an explanation… because the only one who would know didn’t talk to her.</p><p>When she had found out, she had freaked out so much that her legs had brought her outside the shop out of instinct. She had yelled, rattling like a snake. She had tried to tell him, to coax the reason out of his mouth. But he kept stubbornly ignoring her.</p><p>Bulma was growing restless, like her fitful sleep. It was like an anthem that was slowly eating two people away, and the more they shared that room <em> like that,</em> like strangers, the more suffocating it felt. She wanted him gone or back. No in-betweens. </p><p>She had shared her preoccupations with her girlfriends, not everything, but enough to gain their disapproval.</p><p>“What a way to thank you for allowing him to stay under your roof,” Chichi had said, in one of their usual group calls. </p><p>“Told you to win him over with your pussy, men get easily bored if you don’t throw yourself at them,” Launch had scoffed.</p><p>“And end up like you and Tienshihan?” Eighteen was renowned for being blunt and plain-spoken, but Launch wasn’t that easy to mess with. </p><p>“<em>He loves me</em>, I’m just waiting for his brain to catch up.” She’d say, totally at ease with that. “Look, if there’s someone who knows how to handle an elusive man, that’s me. Don’t give him breaks, just keep throwing hearts at him, slap him with your <em>l-o-v-e</em>.”</p><p>“But I’m not in love with him-” Bulma had said, falling from the clouds.</p><p>The trio on the other side of the receiver had suddenly gone silent. Until Chichi spoke up again. “It’s worse than I imagined.”</p><p>“I don’t think we should interfere more than this,” Eighteen added.</p><p>“And they call her a genius, ha!” Launch concluded, sinking her definitely.</p><p>“I’m just bothered because he doesn’t talk to me, that’s all. I’d know if I had feelings for him, and I assure you I do not.” </p><p>She had said that but, was it the truth? Or was she just trying to hide the evidence? Honestly, she didn’t even know him. And he didn’t know her that well either. Plus, in his eyes, she must not look any more than a kid.</p><p>Why so, should she bother to chase such a brutal feeling? </p><p>All she wanted back was what they had before, that comfortable silence, that noncommittal intimacy that was enough to not make her feel utterly alone. But again, she was so used to be alone before his arrival… that such a need for human warmth scared her. Would have been the same if her grandfather or her sister were still alive? Would be the same if, instead of Vegeta, someone else had barged in her shop that day?</p><p>Rain poured angrily on the small town, thunders drummed in the distance, making the empty streets look more spectral than they already were.</p><p>Vegeta was outside, soaked from head to toe, and despite the chaotic weather, didn’t stray from keeping his perfect posture, from jabbing martially at the wind, cutting it with swift, smart movements. Bulma was sitting at her working table, but her gaze was elsewhere, lost in the trails of water on the window, lost in what was behind them. Her chin sat on her palm, and her mind, dizzy with too many thoughts, kept bringing up her conflicting feelings over and over. One week? Two weeks? How long had it been? How long will still be?</p><p>Launch’s words crept in the back of her mind, but she kept shushing them away. “Even if she says so, how am I supposed to not give him a break? Assault? Seduction? He doesn’t seem easily affected by any of that.” And...now she was talking to herself, cool. </p><p>Also, she didn’t want to feel like she had to conquer him back or something. He was the one who had decided to shut himself off just because she had asked a question. As bad as his past or his situation might be, why should he take it out on her?</p><p>But…</p><p>He had also warned her, he always did, with or without words, and she had dismissed his feelings as if they weren’t relevant. </p><p>Her eyelids drooped half-mast. </p><p>---</p><p>When the door that gave to the backyard whispered open, and the sound of sodden soles squeaked on the floor, she was there. Her arm outstretched, handing out the towel she was squeezing.</p><p>He took it. But she didn't let go immediately. "This is my peace pipe," she was still looking down, unsure of how to deal with his gaze, at the moment. "I do have a real one in the shop, but it would be too much-"</p><p>"Thank you." His baritonal, raspy voice resonated through his ribcage like the plucked chord of a bass. It was… so foreign, that word, coming out from his mouth. But strangely enough, it suited him as much. </p><p>She let go of the towel, letting him use it on his wet hair. And just then, she raised her gaze on him. </p><p>He was <em> rattling.  </em></p><p>Bulma placed both of her hands on her hips, quirking her brows. "For being <em> so old, </em>you surely are as reckless as a kid. Come with me. We're in dire need of a hot bath, sir."</p><p>She didn't wait for him to agree or not this time, she merely marched in the direction of the stairwell that led up to her apartment. </p><p>Somewhere in the privacy of her mind, she jutted down out a note to thank Launch later. </p><p>"<em>We</em>?" <em> The sound of brisk footsteps behind her </em> made her strangely frisky. "Wait. <b><em>Kid</em></b>, I'm talking to you!" </p><p>She ran up the winding stairs, her mood suddenly lifted, and, reached the top, she stuck out her head. "I'm a <b><em>woman</em></b>.<em> It's about time you notice that, pretty boy." She winked and </em>oh if she <b>did</b> <em>enjoy</em> watching Vegeta stop abruptly, with his nose up in the air and his mouth slightly parted… and the <em>delicious</em>, befuddled twist on that perennial scowling face. </p><p>As she retreated and headed to the bathroom, she felt giddy like the child he thought she was. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks to <i>Rogue_1102</i> and <i>Ruthlesscupcake</i> for their invaluable help! ❤️❤️❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Don’t you dare cross <em> that </em> threshold.” </p><p>Well, <em> so much </em> for luring him <em> at last, </em> in front of a tub.  Not only was he still clothed but also physically blocking the door. Growling to prevent her from entering her <em> own </em> bathroom.</p><p>“Oh, come on, I’m wearing a <em> swimsuit. </em> And it’s winter, and I’m freezing here!” She rubbed her arms, hopping on the spot to keep warmth from leaving her half-naked body. </p><p>“You could wear a scuba suit for all I care, and I still wouldn’t bathe <em> with you</em>.” </p><p>She could read it in his eyes: how <em> unbecoming </em> it was for a girl to ask a random guy to take a bath together with no strings attached. </p><p>Bullcrap. </p><p>It was just a bath, like dipping in a pool with a friend. “Why not?” She continued, a little mocking this time, “if you’re shy, I can turn around and wait until you’re fully immersed.” </p><p>He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as if to summon patience… or… she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Though, when his eyes reopened, they were as sharp as the natural cut of them itself. Penetrant… and <em> wicked</em>.</p><p>“Don’t you have any sense of danger, <em> kid</em>?”</p><p>The <em> way </em> he said that, the tone he used, low and whetted, pinned her against an invisible wall. The implication behind that single sentence ran under her skin like hot, liquid fire, scalding her cold body in a second. He was responding to her earlier taunt, telling her he <em> knew </em> she was a woman… and she too, should consider that he was a <em> man</em>.</p><p>But what of that?</p><p>“We’ve been sharing a roof for months, it’s late for that kind of question,” she dipped her head, meeting him square in the eyes. She couldn’t help but let out a teasing sneer. “What should I fear? <em> You</em>? The man who has never dared graze me, not even ‘accidentally’? The man who always stands at least five feet away from me? Oh, please, don’t be so full of yourself.” She stepped forward, her body moved accordingly with her words, swaying and puffing like an animal on display that <em> needed </em> to be <em> watched</em>.</p><p>She unhooked her bra, letting it slip away from her chest. “Or are you the one that feels in danger?”</p><p>She could see it, his body tense up under his wet clothes, his jaw clenching, the hard lines of his neck protruding, and the way he tried to hide the knot of saliva bobbing in his throat. His eyes flickered up and down. He was torn. Torn because he wanted this as much as her.</p><p>“You don’t want this from me.” He began again, hissing, with his usual cryptical undertone. <em> A choked one. </em> “I’m not who you think I am.”</p><p>Ah, he might be old, but his body was young, as young and ripened as hers. And his body didn’t lie, not like his mouth.</p><p>And she wanted it. She had wanted it from the very first moment she had set her eyes on it.</p><p>“How mighty of you to decide what <em> I </em> want or not.” She clasped his hand, and he slipped away, skittish. </p><p>She tried again, slower, this time firmly tightening her fingers around his wrist.  Led his nervous hand on one of her breasts and pressed his palm on it, <em> hard</em>.</p><p>“The correct question is… do you want it, <em> Vegeta</em>?” </p><p>An instant later, he stopped hiding it. Something broke in his resistance, and his fingers dug into the flesh under his palm, willingly. Bulma exhaled a rattled moan. They were close, closer than they had ever been before. So close that, she could see puffs of condense escaping from his mouth. She licked her lips.</p><p>“I have nothing to lose.” He breathed in, with the tip of his nose against hers, “but <em> you </em> do.”</p><p>He could have said anything, any other word, and she would have pulled back. Because her brazenness hid fear. Fear that his cracked voice swept away like a hurricane… that <em> made </em> her a hurricane.</p><p>She surged forward, in a hot assault of forceful yearning.</p><p>Her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs closed tight to encircle his waist like a lifeline. Her chest exploded with need, and want, and tenderness so strong that it threatened to overwhelm her. Vegeta stumbled backward, grabbing onto the bath curtain; it gave out under their weights, the metallic sound of each ring ripping away, chanted the wet smack of their mouths crashing and clashing around each other. It was as if lips weren’t enough.</p><p>Her world, and senses all shrunk into that growing heat pooling in her belly. They were pawing at each other like teenagers. The strong pressure of a hand trailing up on her hip, the swift swipe of his tongue in the crook of her neck. They slid in the empty bathtub. Their legs entangling, their breaths drawing puffs of unspent pleasure on the white ceramic. Even now, under her, he looked at her in <em> that </em> way, in the same way he stared at her in the lab. Penetrant, almost <em> frightening</em>. But this time she didn’t shy away. She returned it, watching eagerly at the way he bit the inside of his bottom lip, his sharp inhaling and exhaling. At the deep flush creeping upon his neck.  </p><p>That was enough to make her legs clench against his hips, her back curved at the palm of his hand slithering between her breasts and sternum, down onto her belly.  She grasped his hand when it reached the waistband of her pants, dragging it at her entrance. Her other hand moved the strip of cloth between her legs aside. Her skin prickled at the shivering of his fingers, it matched her own. That soothed her nervousness and encouraged her to lower her body onto his fingers. And as she did so Vegeta’s mouth parted, and her eyes closed. <em> Hot. Strange. New. </em> It wasn’t like when she did it by herself, the thought of having someone else’s fingers, <em> his fingers, </em> inside her made her shiver twice as much. Her mouth parted too, soundlessly mouthing the bliss of feeling her cunt stretched open… and <em> his name</em>.</p><p><em> He must like that</em>, the thought crossed her mind when he crooked his fingers as she moved up and down, touching a place that made her shift on her shins, and move her ass back and forth to meet the friction again and again.</p><p>In the throes of pleasure, the slow unzipping of his pants made her heart jump in her throat. She scrunched her eyes open to see Vegeta take his cock out, its swollen tip engorged and glistening with pre-cum. She swallowed, feeling a sudden wave of anxiety mesh with her cresting. </p><p>Her back arched at the last lunge of his fingers, she didn’t know what her mouth said, if it was a scream or a moan, if she thanked some God or cussed. She just knew that the pleasant tingling and throbbing between her legs differed from what she usually felt when playing with her clit alone. </p><p>Her breathing was shallow and her neck bent backward. The contentedness and satisfaction running in her body lasted for a few seconds. She wanted more, more of him. <em> All of him</em>.</p><p>But when she looked down again, eyes glazed with blurry drunkenness, he had stopped pumping his cock, and the hot sensation of his fingers inside of her was gone. He sat frozen, there, looking at her like a distressed animal. </p><p>Her eyebrows crinkled with worry, “Vegeta?” She whispered, hoarsely. The room felt chilly again.</p><p>He woke up. His wide, black eyes fluttered half-mast and turned away. “Now that you’re satisfied…” he started, shamefully covering up his hard cock with the hem of his shirt  “we can forget about this.” </p><p>What… what was happening? </p><p>“Wait, what do you mean with…” </p><p>He awkwardly grabbed the edge of the sink, raising on his feet, staggering. “Nothing. Just what I said.” </p><p>And like that, he left the room. Leaving her confused and angrily satisfied in the bathtub.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>And <em> angrily </em> she followed him, because if he thought he could just leave her like that, half-naked in a goddamn tub after <em> all of that</em>, well, he was definitely crazy. </p><p>She hadn’t even bothered to reposition her pants, the cold of the house long forgotten, since the moment she had tasted his lips. Somewhere, her heart still tumbled in her chest with the thrill of embarrassment and giddiness, but on the forefront marched confusion and sadness, and a mounting sensation of rejection that shouldn’t be there. Whatever was between them, he returned it. She knew it, but why… why did he look so freaked out just minutes ago? </p><p>Once close enough to his fleeing back, she grabbed his shoulder, intending to make him turn around. He refused to do that, grounding himself to his spot, rigid just as a block of marble would be. But at least, he stopped. </p><p>“Do you think I’ll let you run away like this without an <em>actual </em>explanation?” The leveled sound of her own voice marveled her, chest bursting with air that needed to be yelled out. However, it didn’t.</p><p>“I gave you one.” His coldness didn’t hurt nor chip her grit at all. It fanned her fire. </p><p>“Which was not enough. What is it? Am I not good enough? Is it my age?”</p><p>He didn’t reply, but his shoulders kept stiffening and tensing under his damp training shirt. </p><p>“Did you change your mi-?” </p><p>“I’m here just for the clock.”  His confession chilled the air around them. She bit the inside of her lip, to keep it from trembling. </p><p>“The clock. Funny, coming from someone who just a few seconds ago had his fingers deep in my-“</p><p>“You need not say <em> that </em> aloud.” He breathed in, as he was used to doing when deep in thought, or searching for words he didn’t know how to communicate. The tips of his ears were on fire.  “I… I was right there.” </p><p>“This isn’t the time to be all sheepish. It’s because you were in there, that your excuse sounds lame. I like you. You like me. There’s no question mark because you wouldn’t have done that with me if it was the contrary. Give me a reason… please.” Her voice cracked around the edges of her nasty comeback. She didn’t want to fight again, not without knowing what she was for or fighting against. That was the reason that had pulled her out from a life made of commodities and money to live solitary confinement in this little strip of land.</p><p>“I can’t.” </p><p>“This is worse than a drama movie and I hate dramas. You can’t because of that clock? Or you can’t because you fear me? No… wait, don’t tell me. Just reply to this… if I were to give you back that clock right now. Would you go away?”</p><p>He hesitated. For that reason, the ‘<em>yes’ </em> that escaped from his lips turned into an <em> ‘I must’ </em> to her ears.</p><p>“Then, I’ll never give it back to you.” </p><p>His head drooped a bit, but his shoulders… those relaxed. </p><p>Did he want to stay? If so, why didn’t he just say so? What was it that scared him so? That he couldn’t bring himself to share his thoughts, give in to his desires, approach a normal human being without that extreme desire to escape? </p><p>“I know that you sneak out when I fall asleep. And I know you sneak back in when I wake up. Because I saw you more than once… you always come back all clean and ironed.” </p><p>Finally, he turned over slightly and quirked a puzzled brow. “What’s your point?”</p><p>“Move in with me.” </p><p>“I already live with you.” </p><p>“No. You live in my shop. I want you to live with me, Vegeta.” </p><p>This time, he turned toward her; the puzzlement was gone, replaced by his customary scowl. “Why?” Was his only query.</p><p>“You have nothing to lose, right? Well, neither do I.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Even though he had accepted to move in, she didn’t notice any difference. Vegeta kept shying away from her and came up to the apartment just to sleep. </p><p>She had given him her grandpa’s old room and allowed him to refurbish it as he wished. However, the day he came back from his house supposed to take what was left in it with him, there was nothing in his hands. No briefcase, no utensils, no clothes. <em> Nothing</em>. She hadn’t asked why, since it wasn’t a problem. </p><p>It was just the watch that mattered to him. Was hers just a girlish fantasy? A Pindaric flight created by her own feelings, the thought he might really have wanted to stay if…</p><p>The end of the year was drawing close. She had spent most of the festivities shut off in her lab, working on her commissions. Despite their closeness in that room, once again, like it had happened weeks ago… it felt wrong. A chasm, bigger than the previous one, had grown between them. Eating up all the heat of that evening, making it look like a distant, blurred dream. </p><p>Sometimes, she would try to  glance at him. To catch him staring, maybe, at her working face. But his eyes were never on her. They weren’t on the clock either, but far away, maybe deep in his memories. A place that seemed hurtful. She felt stupid, imagining herself standing up and just running to him, taking his face in her hands, and kissing him. A kiss like the first one she stole away from him, charged with want and hurry. But would it be like that, now? </p><p>So she went back to her job. Ignoring that as soon she looked down, he’d move her gaze on her. </p><p>“You know…” she started, clearing her throat “I always wanted to spend the last day of the year with a boy.” The pitiful curl on her mouth was nostalgic, maybe also sad. “I was always the kind of girl that had too much in her pockets to dream for something less silly. Once, I asked for a truck of strawberries for my birthday. My parents gifted it to me. But somehow, I was never lucky with men. Either they were just too intimidated by me or interested in my parents’ fortune.” She laughed, a shrill titter that sounded fake, or embarrassed, she herself didn’t know. </p><p>“It wasn’t out of ingratitude, really, that I left that life behind.” She retrieved Vegeta’s pocket watch, putting aside the old radio she was re-painting, and turned it between her fingers. “But I felt as if my life lacked thrill, and I was so drawn to it, that one day I moved out with my grandfather… and my older sister. She was an exceptional writer, you know? As a kid, she invented all kinds of stories to force me to eat veggies. And I didn’t even notice that I ate them, as I was so engrossed. Both her and my grandpa belonged to the artsy side of the family. I was more interested in science, engineering, and physics. My father’s fault.” She took a deep breath, feeling her voice starting to give out under the pressure of her sudden stream of consciousness. “My grandad lived here. Had been living here since he was a kid. He ran this little shop by the hills, which always felt out of a magical world. We came here often, Tights and I, you know? </p><p>The last time that I saw them, we were here.” She didn’t know if Vegeta was listening to her or not, but she didn’t care at the moment. Those words had been stuck in her throat for so long, never coming out, that she couldn’t stop them anymore. “There was once a painting on the wall next to you. A beautiful landscape oil painting of this town. It was so detailed, with those tiny houses and their roofs capped with snow and the market road that lead on and beyond the big hill you can spot from here too. I loved it.” Her fingers around the watch kept moving nervously, trembling.</p><p>“That day a customer came in to buy that painting. But I refused to sell it to her because my grandfather had been the one drawing it. I was putting money away to buy it out of him. I never told him that.</p><p>… T-the shop wasn’t doing well, and that woman was offering a lot. Grandpa and I had a rough fight that day, because of it. I ended up asking my sister to help me pull it off from the wall. I wanted to hide it so that my grandpa couldn’t sell it. But… the frame was heavy and… I lost my grip on it...and…” she tried to rub away the fat tears that had streamed down her cheeks, “I didn’t want to kill her. I didn’t…” her voice was small, so small, and choked, like the screeching of a little rat. “M...my grandfather stopped working and eating… and speaking to me. He went out like a candle… because his heart couldn’t get over the loss of Tights. I didn’t want to kill them.” </p><p>Her small voice grew even smaller, she leaned in on the watch, resting her forehead on its surface. </p><p>“I killed too.” </p><p>Vegeta’s firm, cold timbre broke that silence made of soft sobs and rattling teeth. Bulma’s eyes widened in shock. Not at his words, but at the rust on the clock, rapidly chipping off in front of her eyes. “I can’t count the deaths on my fingers.” The way he spoke of that was almost frightening. The calmness, the chilly inflection in his voice. As if he was talking about a trifling matter. Something that didn’t matter.</p><p>She turned toward him, and her puffy eyes met his hard stare. </p><p>“There’s no way to amend your faults. Not even a thousand lives will clean the bloodstains off of your conscience.”  </p><p>She swallowed. </p><p>“Perhaps, death will remove you from this planet, but your sins will stay behind. Attached to your very name.” </p><p>“Is... that… why you want to die?” Her words echoed in her mind as a question she was asking to herself. Not to him.</p><p>“No.” He veered his gaze away, again, gazing out of that window. That same somewhere he had observed so many, many times. </p><p>Bulma tears had already dried out when he spoke again. “There’s just no difference, between life and death.”</p><p>“That’s not true!” She rose from her seat, it fell behind her. “My relatives… Tights, she was just seventeen! She didn’t experience half of the things a girl her age should have! If she had lived, she could have done that. Try new food. Travel. Meet a man and fall for him. Have her first heartbreak, win the literary award she dreamed so much of… and because of my stupid greed she-“</p><p>“And you locked yourself up in this rundown town and stopped living for that reason.” </p><p>His words cut deep, like acuminate darts, under the skin. And his eyes, when returned on her, grew colder and colder, brimming with enmity and disgust. But the watch… the watch in her hand continued to lose the rust. It splintered and sifted among her fingers like sand. </p><p>“What if I did? Do I deserve to live a normal life, knowing that someone can’t do that because of me?” </p><p>“No. You don’t.” It sounded like a life sentence. “That is why you <em> can’t </em> either.” </p><p>He detached himself from the wall and grabbed a log to toss in the little stove. The flames in it flared up, devouring the wood. They danced, famished, highlighting the coarseness of his edgy profile and drew a wicked smirk he didn’t have, on his face. </p><p>“What if <em> I </em> do it, anyway?” Bulma started, walking closer. He was still half-bending down toward the stove when his black, bottomless irises looked up to her. </p><p>“What if I’m in this predicament where something… or <em> someone </em> that I really want stands right in front of me? And what if, no matter what I do, I keep wanting to have him? Ugh, I know this sounds straight out from a victorian movie and… it’s so embarrassing… but... what if I want him so much that I’d rather be this sappy, idiotic mess than live the rest of my life tripping out on how it could have been? It doesn’t have to be until death do us part…” she felt her hands raise to his face in an automatic gesture, her thumbs rubbing the incipit of a stubble. She swallowed, refusing to look away despite her mortification.</p><p>Vegeta straightened up, and Bulma could feel the bones in his jaw jut out, tensed.</p><p>“And not even, you know, ‘forever’ or fhlooples like that.” Her palms slipped down, turning into arms that encircled his waist, tight. “It can be just now and as long as we want it. The other option is to just knock me unconscious and flee.” Daring more, she nodded her cheek against his chest.</p><p>“Doesn’t it sicken you, that I was the same wrinkled person who crossed that threshold just a few months ago?”</p><p>It was nice feeling his deep voice thrum through his ribcage. She shook her head and laughed. “It just felt like peeking into the future.”</p><p>“I’m too old. I could be your-”</p><p>“Lover? Yes. You could be.”</p><p>“I am a <em> killer</em>.” He tilted his head downward, brushing his chin against her head. A moment later, his arms were casually and clumsily trying to imitate her embrace. She felt cold and hot at the same time. </p><p>Squeezing her face in his chest, she hid a choked whisper</p><p>“So am I.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As usual, thanks to Ruthelesscupcake for betaing this chapter!</p><p>Also remember, comments are fuel ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Being with Vegeta meant one step forward was also two steps backward.</p><p>And sometimes, this flightiness of him irritated her to no end. She had taken the habit of slipping into his room, late at night, while she was sure he was deep asleep. Because more often than not, that was the only way to get to cuddle with that man without having him running away.</p><p>Another reason was to make sure there weren’t other women in her territory. Past or present. So she pricked up her ears in the hopes of catching him murmur some foreign name. But he never talked while he slept. His dormant form was strangely still, rigid, so rigid that she had checked more than once to see if he was still breathing.</p><p>He always slept with his back toward the window, never the other way around. He laid with one arm against his chest and the other hand with his palm facing the mattress, as if he was ready to bolt at any given time. That gave her the opportunity to spoon against him as much as she wished, but he never reciprocated it. </p><p>What made her mad was that he knew, and pretended not to know. She never woke before him, and when her eyes opened, the bed was always empty. It was like he was <em> allowing </em> her to give him affection, but still keeping her at arm's length. </p><p>"Tell me more about yourself," she asked one night. "I know you're awake. So, stop pretending." </p><p>She pressed her nose against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of fabric and man. </p><p>He didn't respond immediately, but he shifted underneath the covers, curling up in denial.</p><p>"Alright.  Alright. What about, I ask some questions? You can choose to respond or not." </p><p>She pressed herself more against his back, feeling every curve and twist of his body, his heat. </p><p>"Fine." Once again, his muffled gravelly voice resonated right through her. She loved the sensation of his voice; it gave her tingles.</p><p>"Okay, so, why do you train so hard? I speculated a bit and came to the conclusion that you were either a spy or in the military."</p><p>His breathing started to hitch, but nonetheless, he didn't flinch from her question. "I was in the army." </p><p>"What rank?" </p><p>"Lieutenant General." </p><p>"Uhh, a starred officer…" the tip of her finger zigzagged on his back, drawing invisible lines. </p><p>Now his words made sense. She wasn't going to ask how many wars his eyes had seen, or how many lives he took. That was not a story for tonight. </p><p>"Have you always lived here?" </p><p>"No," his voice was clipped. </p><p>"You said something about not knowing where you come from. Have you ever tried to find out?"</p><p>"I never cared about that. However, I came here to find out what was the emblem under the rust."</p><p>Did that mean that he had never seen it completely? Her mind flew to her theory, which from the night of their embrace, had somehow become a certainty. Her heart started to thump loudly against her ears. Was it truly possible for a man that had lived so long, to have never known the closeness of another human being before? Did… this make her, his first... <em> everything</em>?</p><p>She hid her face between the pillow and his back, fighting the fangirling scream that threatened to come out. And tightened her arms around his waist even more.</p><p>"Don't squeeze so hard, woman."</p><p>"Oh? You raised my rank, sir."</p><p>"You asked me to consider you one." </p><p>That sentence shut her up... Completely. Yes, she had done just that, but out of tease, in order to seduce him. She had no idea he had taken that seriously and had given it actual thought. </p><p>"You are surprisingly straightforward...when you want to be." Her timbre suddenly dropped, whispering huskily. "Can I be too?"</p><p>"More than this?" </p><p>He touched her arm, and that casual brush, mixed with the new, foreign hint of sarcasm in his voice made her hairs goose up pleasurably. </p><p>"<em>More </em> than this." Her hand snuck under his shirt, and again, he tensed up like a bowstring. Kissing his shoulder, her other limb slipped past the waistband of his boxers. </p><p>He took her wrist, blocking it.</p><p>"I know <em> you </em> can't. But does that count for me too?"</p><p>She heard him swallow. His grip loosened, letting her hand sink further down and wrap around his thick, fully-erect cock. He hissed, sucking a lungful of air, sharply. It was the first time she had touched a man, and she couldn't decipher if that sound was one of pleasure or hurt. Anxiety took over and her fingers stilled.</p><p>His hand came down too, strong and instinctive, wrapping around hers. With a firm motion, he <em> pushed </em>their interlaced fingers to the base of his cock, tightening her fingers against its skin. </p><p>"<em>Tighter…</em>" his voice quivered between his teeth, frenzied and raspy. He thrust into their hold and at the same time, tugged hard, once. Another hiss. "Yes, <em> like this.</em>"</p><p>Blood shot up to her cheeks just as Vegeta's cock grew ribbed with swollen veins, slipping in and out of her palm. His voice. That controlled humming…</p><p>She squeezed her legs, the bud of her clitoris pulsated with arousal, weeping to be satisfied. She wanted his fingers inside her like last time… she wanted his hot, deft mouth to…</p><p>She hadn't realized that she had voiced her thoughts aloud, at least not until he stopped pumping into her hand and turned around. If <em> predatory </em> had another name, at that moment, was his. </p><p>A thrill of fear and expectation gnawed at her chest, making her heart somersault. Vegeta dropped on all fours, crawling closer to her and dragging the covers under his knees. Bulma didn't move, resting on her elbows and watching him spellbound. Didn't dare to breathe, praying to every existing god for him not to flee this time.</p><p>And he didn't. With a fluid motion, he grabbed her hips and pulled her under him, knocking Bulma out of breath. She didn't even have time to blink, his mouth was on hers, voracious like that afternoon in the bathroom. Clammy fingers searched for the buttons of her pajamas, popping them open with haste to show her breasts. One jiggled out and he captured it between his fingers, squeezing and playing with the nipple, making her shiver until it became turgid under his touch. </p><p>One of his legs pushed between hers, nudging them wide open. And at the slightest touch of his knee, she moaned. </p><p>All she could hear was his heavy breathing in her mouth, chanting "we shouldn't be doing this…" between a swipe of tongue and another, going up and down from mouth to neck in a crazed frenzy. </p><p>She didn't care anymore, her mind was focused on one thing and one thing alone. Grabbing a handful of his hair, she yanked his head downward, pushing it with her other hand too. "Go down...I want to feel your mouth on my-" a choked exhale finished her sentence, when he jerked her pants down and his mouth moved right on her clitoris, sucking on the swollen bud of flesh without warning. </p><p>"<em>Oh, God!" </em>her eyes widened in shock, and her back arched. Instinctively, her hand jumped straight on the folds of her cunt, stretching them open for his tongue to probe further in. She felt it slide between her wet fingers, as he swiped away the juices gathered there, his nostrils flared with hot, hitched breaths.</p><p>He <em> felt </em>wild, delirious in his frenzied licking and nibbling at everything in sight. From the tips of her fingers back to her clit again. </p><p>She watched him, through half-mast lids, and he watched her, rapt and famished. Amongst moans and convulsed sighs, she threw her free hand over her mouth and curling a finger in, sucked avidly on it. </p><p>Her glazed eyes stared at the motion of his tongue flickering and lapping at her pussy, at the glistening of her cum on his lips, at his nose burying in the tuft of curls above. At his eyes that had never left hers, that veered just to catch her fingers squeezing and rubbing her nipple and return to her mouth.</p><p>She felt drunk and primal, and probably for that reason, couldn't stop screaming incoherent, dirty, requests. "I want...<em> oh, yes... </em> to watch you…" she hiccuped, "jerk off while you finger me, V-Vegeta. <em> Vegeta!" </em> </p><p>Then his mouth was gone, leaving her with a last, wet smack. He rose on his knees, the slick red tip of his cock still half out from her previous handjob. She saw him reach for the hem of his boxers, as he moved, the moonlight cut to an angle of his half-open shirt, the slight twist of his torso revealed a bronzed skin marred with pink scars.</p><p>He took it out. </p><p>She felt her breath catch in her throat and her face burn. Her cunt spasmed with want, to have him inside. He tightened his hand around his shaft, pulling at it, just under the tip, erratic. Grunting and short-breathed. </p><p>Bulma's fingers, still holding the lips of her pussy open, slowly let go, spreading her legs and moving to her opening. She slipped her fingers inside, matching the rhythm of Vegeta's masturbation. Her moans goaded him to go faster. His nostrils flared, puffing out his sculpted chest with sharp lungfuls of air. </p><p>"Turn around," he said, his words minced by heavy swallows and hitchy breathing. That made her cunt swarm with tingles of anticipation. Her mind was shut-off, and, wrapped around that sentence alone, she flipped on her belly and got on her knees. Her hot cheek sank on the pillow, as she grabbed her buttcheeks, spreading them to show her throbbing slit. </p><p>"There's a condom in the pocket of my pants. Hurry, hurry...Vegeta…" she watched him through her arm, her mouth felt doughy, and her voice not her own. He closed his eyes for a second, she could swear his eyes just rolled in his skull. Biting his lips, Vegeta let out another sharp sound. </p><p>Vegeta fumbled behind her. </p><p>The hasted ripping off of plastic.</p><p>The slippery unrolling of latex on skin... its smell mixed with man and sex. Pungent. Arousing. <em> Sexy. </em></p><p>Bulma held her breath, the heat against her ass increased with his vicinity. The hard length of Vegeta's cock slid between her cheeks twice, until its tip felt strong against her opening.  </p><p>Her mouth widened agape. A mix of pain and pleasure filled her, as he pushed in, stretching her tightness open. It was like drowning in her own breath. Suddenly, her mind was made of scattered words, and her vision filled with black, swimming dots. Nothing remotely alike plastic cocks or fingers. It was hot, pulsating, and sent shivers up to her core.</p><p>His breathing stuttered in his throat, and his nails sank in the flesh of her hips. </p><p>They both let out a satisfied groan, when his cock was deep inside, buried to the balls. Her cheek was pressed hard against the pillow, her hands stretching out her ass as much as possible. His weight on her back felt nice, slick, ebullient. </p><p>He started to move, sliding out of her, slow, drawing her broken voice with the motion. </p><p>Hissing, Vegeta thrust his cock back inside her again, making her jerk up. One of her hands left her ass, and hurried between her legs, feeling the need to satisfy her twitching clit. And he sunk again, and again, rocking against her dripping sex. Her benumbed mind managed to focus just on the burning sensation rising with every exhale, on the stale and arousing smell of juices mingling, and the creaking sound of the old springs of the bed. The sensation of his damp scrotum brushing against her hairs, the dirty slapping of wet skin on wet skin. </p><p>She curved her spine backward, letting go of her ass to search blindly for him, behind her. She felt him grab her waist with a quivery arm, and pull her toward him, pressing his semi-naked chest to her back. One hand on her breast, and hoarse, throaty gasps against her ear. "I won't last…" he whispered, catching her lobe in his teeth, "and it's all your fault." </p><p>Whatever he had just said, sent shivers up and down her neck, and further down, making her scream her orgasm in his mouth, when she found his lips. Their mouths opened, lapping and suckling, starved, at each other. Until he pushed her down again, a hand firm on her back and the other tight on her ass. His thrusts became faster, wilder, and as she sobbed his name, again and again, he came.</p><p>---</p><p>They stayed like that for a long time, with pleasure still lingering in their groins. Until Vegeta slipped out of her. </p><p>She plopped headfirst into the pillow, finally letting her trembling, jelly legs give in to tiredness. </p><p>Vegeta moved away, sitting on the edge of the bed. </p><p>No other sound besides their labored breathing followed by the rustling sheets, when she turned over to stare at his back. He yanked the used condom from his cock, throwing it on the floor as if it was a curse.</p><p>"You're regretting it." She didn't intend to sound so bitter about it. After all, it was foregone that coaxing him into having sex with her would end up like this. But she had wanted it anyway because being stubborn was second nature to her. Still, Vegeta's lack of response stung. When she had suggested that it was just her being selfish, she kind of hoped he would assure her it wasn't just out of egoism. He had wanted it as much as her, of that much she was sure. So why, now? Why had she felt guilty as hell? </p><p>All in all, it had been good. So good, actually, that she wouldn't mind staying with him all night. But it was evident by his reaction, that she was the only one thinking that. </p><p>So she gathered her clothes and bundled them under her armpit. "I'm going to have a smoke on the balcony…" she trailed off, waiting for him to say something, <em> anything. </em> But he didn't even acknowledge her dismissal. <em> Oh, fuck off. </em>Why should she keep up that farce of not giving a fuck when she evidently did? </p><p>"Night. <em> Asshole."</em></p><p>She threw her clothes at him, with all the strength she had in her body, and stalked off stark naked out in the hallway. Why should she feel guilty about having sex with the man she liked? He was there too. She could still feel the tingling of his cock inside her. So why was he like this? One moment he looked at her as if she was his lifeline, and a moment later, she didn't even exist? It made her so mad. So furious! She didn't want to whine like a stupid heartbroken teen. But her eyes stung with unshed tears and the big lump in her throat didn't want to go down. Fucking, emotionless bastard! Why, why out of all men had she fallen for such a stubborn and impassive case?! She could have picked a random bastard if the men in that forsaken town weren't too busy emigrating from it! But no. No! A fucking old man inside the body of the hottest <em>stud</em> in the universe had to knock at <em>her</em> <em>door. </em>Because of course, destiny couldn't just forgive her. Oh, karma. This was karma, indeed. </p><p>She went to the bathroom and turned on the hottest level of water. Maybe if it was scalding enough, it would burn away the sensation of his hands, his smell, the trails left from his mouth. Thus, once the steam had filled the room, Bulma flung her god-damned body under the sweltering stream headfirst. It hurt. But didn't hurt as much as Vegeta giving her his back. </p><p>She scrubbed her body hard and hissed at the hypersensitivity of her skin. </p><p>Asshole.</p><p>Asshole.</p><p>Ass…</p><p>A moment later she was being pulled out of the shower by force. Strong fingers curled around her wrist. Air hadn't even filled her mouth when Vegeta's mouth crashed on it,  compelling her to swallow the string of blasphemies she wanted to scream in his face. But his passion made her slack like a stupid doll, pliant against those smarmy, invadent lips. "Why are you like this?" Her question was nothing but a puff of hot, broken condense against his tongue. </p><p>"You called me an asshole." God. Could she love that quirky straightforwardness more? Or his serious, frowny dark eyes. Or that body, that against her felt hotter than the hottest water?</p><p>"Because you are one." She grumbled, against his lips.</p><p>Twisted or not, to hell with it. The tip of his mouth, for the first time, curled up into <em> something </em> that was still better than nothing. Like their out of the ordinary relationship. </p><p>"So are you." He pushed her against the wall, hauling her thigh against his hip. "Unless you go to bed with a condom in your pocket every night. Stubborn <em> woman</em>."</p><p>They spent the last day of the year in bed. </p><p>Just when morning came, and she woke up, Bulma realized that her childhood wish had come true. Vegeta was still by her side... </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As usual, thanks to Ruthlesscupcake for being an amazing beta! 💞</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, so I know I should to do that thing in which I write 7000 words of farewell and cry over the end of the fic. </p><p>But no. I'll let the chapter talk instead.</p><p>See you at the end ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Winter ended sooner than usual. Probably because the house wasn't that cold anymore with two people living in it. Or because being in a relationship with Vegeta meant being constantly lusty or mad at him. </p><p>Chichi's belly had a nice bump, and she was radiant. Launch was still after her impossible love. Bulma suspected she just liked to hunt down and tease like a preschooler bully. </p><p>Eighteen had mysteriously disappeared around January, leaving behind a cryptic note about her husband wanting to go on a road trip to renew their vows. She still hadn't come back, but always sent a postcard or pictures of her, Krillin and his Taekwondo old master that apparently lived with them. </p><p>She had stopped sharing stuff about her and Vegeta because now he was always around in one way or another, and her girlfriends were too occupied coaxing stuff out of him to worry about his background. </p><p>But that still concerned him. And more than once, she had found him staring at the watch like he did when she had first met him, when they were in her lab, or when he was either admiring or loathing the now fully visible emblem on the golden lid.</p><p>"It looks like a throne," she said one afternoon, embracing his neck and climbing on his back, with a full glass of wine on one hand and an empty one on the other. A nice wind whistled from the East, and the setting sun twisted its rays among the glasses, creating that game of lights she loved so dearly. </p><p>He snorted derisively, crinkling his nose. </p><p>"Oh, come on, look! It's a crown sitting on a throne. Maybe you're royalty."</p><p>"Or maybe you're drunk." </p><p>"Oh, right! I brought this for you." She slid down from his back and handed him the empty glass, "dinner is ready, your majesty." She was, indeed, tipsy. And when she was tipsy she also felt frisky. Vegeta took the glass, staring at it dismissively. "I'm not joining your merry bacchanal." </p><p>"Oh yeah?" One of her thin, cerulean brows arched suggestively on her forehead. She sipped her wine and curved her mouth in a knowing smirk. "I dare you to add 'I'm too old for this' and explain your crazy hormones to my drunk self later in bed, when you're balls deep." </p><p>He always tried not to show how uncomfortable it made him when she pointed out his weaknesses, but he also failed miserably every time, because she had learned to read his body language better than she knew her own. He looked like an offended kid, and his bushy brows always reached the exact center of his large forehead. And then he basically gave away his embarrassment just opening his mouth.</p><p>"C-crazy hormones? You speak like a truck driver." </p><p>"Oh because you definitely don't turn into one when you're deep inside me, and when I scream your name, and when-"</p><p>"Enough!"</p><p>She laughed, at how expressive his face was now and how different it was from just a few months ago. When he opened his eyes wide like that as if he was <em> truly </em> horrified. And how they always scrunched back a moment later, filled with wickedness. He'd just walk past her, arms crossed against his chest, but leaving a satisfied, secret smirk for the end. He was weird, and changed his mood like the wind, sometimes a prick and sometimes the most attentive and caring partner. But she had started to get used to his quirks, and even if some of them still grated her nerves, they still made him the man she had fallen in love with.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>They were sitting on the shingles of the roof when Vegeta caught her staring at him. She gave him a funny smile, one she was not trying to hide. </p><p>He didn't ask for a reason anymore. Because he knew that she found his eating habits to be …<em> fascinating</em>. He swept away all the food on his plate like a human vacuum. Fast but not messy. It was like he didn't bother chewing at all, gobbling down whatever was handed to him. "You remind me of a pigeon." </p><p>He raised a brow. "Do you see me as a filthy piece of human waste?"</p><p>"Oh, please, remove those rose-tinted spectacles and watch the world in a less bright way." She rolled her eyes, "I just meant that you don't even taste your food. Why is that?"</p><p>"Old habits." He shrugged.</p><p>The mood suddenly shifted. She could feel the usual tension that permeated from him every time she tried to ask about his past, even if he had started to feign that it didn't faze him anymore. He always did that. Straighten up his back. "Vegeta… you really don't want to find out where you come from?"</p><p>He was about to pop a tart in his mouth, but stopped, regarding her with that shadow of warning that meant he was not in the mood. </p><p>"I really want to." She confessed, getting up and warily hopping on the shingles to get closer to him. </p><p>He turned away, the dim lights of the shop lanterns underneath, in the street, made his features squarer than they were, accentuating his discomfort. "I don't see any reason for you to stick your nose in my business." </p><p>Bulma stiffened, clenching her jaw. "Your business." She parroted, her timbre dull. </p><p>He glanced at her, his eyes sharp.</p><p>"You always keep pushing me back. Letting me in just when it suits you." Her eyebrows sank on her nose, and her glazed eyes went downcast. "My <em> job is finished </em>, you know?"</p><p>"What do-"</p><p>"I mean what I said! You came here as a customer, <em> right </em> ? I removed the rust. There's no reason for you to stay anymore if it's not <em> my business. </em>You know, women tend to have stupid fantasies. Like fucking  a man that loves them or shit like that… but not me. Oh no. Not me! I'm working for you. How could I have forgotten that-- then pay me. Give me what you owe me and…"</p><p>"Then <em> what </em>?" </p><p>A chilling gust of wind tousled her long hair, but not as cold as his query had been. <em> Then what? </em> Good question. Right. <em> What </em>? </p><p>"Well…<em> you </em> tell me, since I'm not <em> allowed </em> to know." It was okay to let it out, to let it all out. What was their relationship? She didn't know that either. She knew they had great chemistry in bed. And the first months after that felt like everything she could have wished for. Feeling him against her, his heat engulfing her core. She <em> had </em>wanted that. And he had given it to her. </p><p>But then, what?</p><p>She had started to feel greedy. To want more. To hear from his mouth, if what he felt for her was even a grain of what he meant to her. But it was scary. Because she knew her question would remain unanswered.</p><p>No matter how close they were under the sheets, they were just too far away outside of them. </p><p>A few tiles scattered away. The sound of his feet threading them made her arms tremble with fury. "Don't fucking ignore me!"</p><p>He stopped. </p><p>"I <em> hate </em> that about you. I can't stand it! You fuck me and kiss me and then won't talk to me. You live with me, but I feel that sometimes you don't even exist! You agreed to <em> all of this, </em> Vegeta <em> . </em></p><p>You <em> came </em> to me. You made me fall for you. You take responsibility! You chose <em> me </em>. Do you understand? If you choose me, know that I can't live a relationship for the both of us!  You have to be in it. Otherwise…" </p><p>"I don't want <em> that </em> to be your business, because it took me more than one lifetime to forget it."  </p><p>She finally looked up, her hands, that had balled up close to her face, loosened up, letting her fingers slowly stretch out. "So you do know… you… knew all along?"</p><p>"It doesn't matter!" He swallowed and the muscles on his back twitched uncontrollably "Who I was, who I am. It's been so long that I don't fucking even know anymore. For years, centuries, I brandished my name like a standard. I won wars in the name of fantasy, I killed people," he turned over his shoulder, his eyes were wicked fire. A fire that… scared her. </p><p>"I killed countless people just for the glory of a dead nation. I was to be king. King of a country… that after the war lived just in my head! Are you satisfied now? To know you're besotted with a psychopath? Is your curiosity quelled?"</p><p>"No! I want to know more. So I can not give a shit about that <em> with you</em>." It wasn't clear neither to her what that meant, but Vegeta, he must have seen through it. Because all that acrimony, gradually subdued. </p><p>"What do you want from me?" </p><p>That last query stabbed her like a knife. Her mouth thinned into a hard line. She couldn't hold it in anymore, it was too much. Too hard. Too difficult to handle. Her steps started brisk, but with such hasty ardor that it made her foot twist and slip clumsily on a roof tile. </p><p>He caught her hand readily. </p><p>And she slapped his face. Hard. Vegeta didn't even turn. He merely squeezed his eyes. But his expression, that didn't change. It was a hard stare. His black eyes didn't twinkle in the night with the passion he had started to show recently. Shit! He wasn't even giving her the satisfaction to physically hurt him!</p><p>"What kind of idiotic question was that?" She shrugged his hand off, finding her own equilibrium again. "I told you and showed you so many times, but I'm starting to think you never heard or understood me from the start. But you know it, like you know many other things that you refuse to share with me. You <em> repel </em>people, Vegeta. You like to play dumb. But you're not, right? Say it out loud. It has nothing to do with being a psychopath or not. Or protecting me from you. The truth is that you don't want this. You don't want any of this, am I right?"</p><p>His Adam apple bobbled, and it seemed as if his mouth had gone dry. "You're fucking wrong." His voice was so low that Bulma barely heard it. But it shook her anyway. </p><p>Her eyebrows crinkled with calm sadness, and her shoulders squeezed against her ears as if she were a child. "Then, if you can't tell me…" It was so embarrassing to ask him out loud. Let alone to ask him at all. But that was the only way to finally understand if they were worth something. If they were anything. "Can you show me if I mean <em> something </em> to you?" </p><p>She looked straight at him, fearless, armorless. </p><p>And seeing her so naked, ready to fight him without defenses, probably scared him. But again, he stood his ground. He was giving it thought. She could tell, from the way the deep line at the center of his forehead furrowed against the bridge of his nose, and how his black eyes, albeit on her, seemed to look much farther away. "Come with me." He said and turned away.</p><p>She followed.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>He had led her to the lab.</p><p>And somewhere in the back of her mind, she <em> knew </em> what that meant. There was just one object there. And that was exactly where his eyes had stopped.</p><p>It made her tremble. </p><p>"Pick it up." His voice, strong and firm, made it sound like an order. </p><p>"No." She bristled.</p><p>"Pick it up!" He rarely raised his voice, but when he did, it resounded in the room like a clap of angry thunder. His arms, hands, and legs shivered with impatience.</p><p>She took a deep breath and clenched her teeth. And picked the watch up. </p><p>"It's yours." </p><p>She expected those words. And they broke her heart. But also filled it to the brim. Her throat felt too constricted. Too tight for even breath to get past it.</p><p>They stood just there, in that comfortable silence that she'd grown fond of, with the night cascading on the streets. The full moon peeking through the lab’s little window. Bulma grazed the lid of the clock, closing it in her hands. They had stopped shaking. </p><p>His steps drew close.</p><p>He took the watch from her hand and placed it on the table. Her eyes followed the path of his fingers, tapping on the golden lid and reluctantly leaving the clock.</p><p>When she looked up, he was looking back, just as penetrant and black as the night itself. His hands moved on the hems on his shirt, removing it. His scarred, compact body was eerie and beautiful, much like Vegeta himself. </p><p>The way he kissed her that night was different. It wasn't passionate or hungry, nor was it just mindless want.</p><p>It was like drowning in an angry sorrow. </p><p>And it <em> finally </em> tasted like him.</p><p> </p><p>--- </p><p> </p><p>That time of the year had finally come again when, at sunset, the sun rays would draw kaleidoscopic plays of lights on the shop’s walls. Bulma set down a chest next to a glass case, then toed it open. There was a red wooden stick in it, its lacquered surface shone brightly against the summer daylight. Chichi had donated it on behalf of her husband, who inherited it from his grandfather when he was a kid. Much like many other things in her shop, that artifact came with its own unique story.</p><p>Chichi had laughed it off, talking about a super-strong monkey boy who was supposed to own that stick, and at this command, that would stretch to the sky and take him beyond the clouds.</p><p>"Pfff, can you believe it?" Chichi said, caressing her big belly. "Geh, I won't ever allow Goku to fill our son's head with these stories, he <em> must </em> grow up to be a leveled historian, or maybe a scientist… nothing like that timewaster of his father. <em> One </em> man-child is enough in this family." She sighed.</p><p>"Well, <em> you </em> married him." Bulma shrugged, taking the chest, "but I wouldn't badmouth legends aloud if I were you." She eyed Vegeta, leaning against a wall behind the counter, looking down on them with a frown.</p><p>"<em>Someone </em> might get offended." </p><p>Both Chichi and her sniggered, causing the <em> prince </em>to quirk a brow in distaste. </p><p>"Anyway, Bulma… what about <em> that </em> thing?" Her girlfriend whispered, smiling knowingly. "Will you ever tell him?"</p><p>"Shhh. Tonight. At dinner." Bulma snuck another quick glance at her partner, who had been approached by a customer and didn't seem very happy about it.</p><p>"Eek, he's going to make this one run away too! Put that baton on the showcase Chichi, I gotta stop that man from ruining my business!" </p><p><em> "You're </em> going to marry him." Chichi shrugged, mockingly.</p><p>"Fuck off!"</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He's going to freak out. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He's so going to freak out! </em>
</p><p>Like she had. She had cried, cried rivers of frustration. Cried her eyes and <em> bowels </em> out. Because it couldn't have happened to her, right? </p><p>It could <em> not</em>.</p><p>So, every night after her pregnancy test, being close to Vegeta had felt like a nightmare. Not now. Not now that they had finally found an entente. A little oasis of equilibrium where they were sinners that just sinned together. She just wanted it to last a bit longer. </p><p>But this. <em> This </em> kind of thing could both mean "forever" or "nevermore." And the nevermore part was what scared her shitless. </p><p>So, she played it cool for a whole month. Torn between keeping or letting go. </p><p>They weren't ready for this. They had barely made it to a year of cohabitation and had been just shy of a month of an effective relationship. How could she just barge in and tell him <em> 'Hi, since you gave me your watch, I assumed it was about time to get knocked up. Surprise!'? </em></p><p><em> How,</em> though? </p><p><em> How </em> had that happened? Even after switching to a fucking diaphragm!</p><p>She didn't want <em> kids </em> . And, Vegeta had barely got used to <em> her… </em>what about another human being that shared his loathed bloodline?</p><p>Plus, would the baby live like Vegeta,  attached to the strings of time, living <em>for addiction? </em>Would that clock be passed down to him or her?</p><p>Also… with her current job, she does not have enough money saved or earned to raise a baby, even if just by herself. She should go back to her native home. A place she'd loathe every second of her life. </p><p>What was the right choice? </p><p>Keep it? Kill...it?</p><p>When that thought crossed her mind, she threw up. The image of her sister's skull crushed under that canvas rushed back in her thoughts like a sharp intake. </p><p>She had already made that mistake. </p><p>At that moment, lamely grabbing onto the toilet seat, she decided to gamble - To tell him. In the end, she was just a hypocrite.</p><p>She had pushed Vegeta to the brink of anger and frustration, she had made him barter his <em> life </em> for a relationship that probably would cover a second of his lifespan. </p><p>She owed him this much. To at least not keep <em> this </em> from him,  even if that meant rejection,  or worse, denial. </p><p>It was the beginning of summer, and the carpet of the night had not yet grazed the hills when  Bulma flipped the signboard on <em> closed </em>. The little bells on the door chimed along with her sigh.  She turned her back to the glass and leaned against it for a while, breathing out the last worries from her system.</p><p>Vegeta's watch was around her neck, hidden under her tank top. She squeezed it in her palm.</p><p><em> Don't make him freak out. Don't make him freak out</em>, she prayed, kissing it, before heading to the backyard.</p><p>He was there, unfailing. His gaze fixated where the sun was setting, every muscle of his naked torso flexing with millimetric precision. She crossed her arms, leaning against the door jamb to not disturb him.</p><p>His gaze moved aslant, catching her. It didn't matter how many times that happened, or the state of her mind; that dark, penetrant gaze had always the power to make her shudder with want. </p><p>And that was what frightened her the most.</p><p>"Hi, pretty boy," she waved, giving him the best of her cheerful smiles. "I just came here to watch how sexy you are half-naked. Even if I prefer you <em> in the nude."  </em></p><p>His lips quirked up for a fraction, so fast that if she didn't know him, she could have sworn to have imagined it. "Real reason." The cutting edge in his voice wasn't meant to hurt; she had learned that too. It sounded like a strange combination between challenge and sarcasm, and it was his… <em> playful </em> side, if one could call it that. </p><p>"Okay. I want to have dinner someplace strange today. Like," she put a finger on her lips and hummed, "let's go to your old house. I've never seen it."</p><p>He snorted and curled his upper lip in disgust, going back to throwing jabs in the air. </p><p>"Don't ignore me like that, you cuckoo! Or is Mr. Lieutenant scared of a bit of trespassing? Come on, you jumped trenches and can't hop a wall?" Her wide, taunting smirk grated his nerves, and she knew it. Albeit being "<em> mature" </em> age-wise, Vegeta still held an amusing, childish side to him. He was a <em> very </em> , <em> very </em> , <em> very </em> proud man and didn't like being made fun of.</p><p>So when his "have it your way" left his twitching mouth, she wasn't even surprised. Not… outwardly at least. Inside, she was trembling like the flame of a candle.   Her palms sweated behind her back, and her heart thumped against her chest. </p><p>Somewhere inside, she wished he had declined her proposal.</p><p>But of course, he would not. </p><p>He never really said "no" unless truly uncomfortable with something. And that made her heart squeeze in her chest, reminding her how much she loved this man, who never <em> told </em> but <em> showed </em> tenfold.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Bulma tipped her head and her eyebrows dropped dramatically. “Mhhh, I don’t know why but I expected something more… <em> impactful </em>. Like an old, crumbling castle surrounded by thunder and eternal fog.”</p><p>Vegeta set his jaw and went ahead, walking gingerly toward the gate of the complex, basket full of food in hand, and ignored her whinnied fantasies. </p><p>“Aw, don’t be like that.” She ran next to him, trying to catch and hug his arm between her boobs. “You’re still mysterious and decadent enough to be my wet dream.” </p><p>He skillfully dodged her, just stepping aside, and harrumphed as if he was babysitting a child. Bulma’s steps slowed down, her eyes fixated on his relaxed back. <em> Right </em>. He would probably make a nice dad… but what about her? She was barely capable of taking care of herself. Surely, a quick mouth and some skill sets in engineering didn’t qualify her as a parent. She considered that, staring at the ground and unconsciously stroking her still invisible bump.</p><p>"You're slow." </p><p>When she looked up, suddenly pulled back to reality, he was eyeing her through the bars of the gate. Already on the other side.</p><p>"You cheater! When did you jump off? I didn't even hear you." She stomped toward the gate, and getting a hold of the bars, tried to climb up.</p><p>"Get down. I'm opening the gate."</p><p>"Don't you dare! If you can do that. <em> I </em> can too." </p><p>"You shouldn't, in your condition."</p><p>His words froze her mid-climb. What… did he just…</p><p>"Vegeta you-" </p><p>As she recklessly sked down off her side of the gate, the necklace around her neck caught in one of the bars.</p><p>
  <em> It snapped. </em>
</p><p>Elation and terror mingled in her veins, congealing the hot and scorching blood in <em> one instant.  </em></p><p>At the sight of Vegeta's eyes widening in horror, she turned around. </p><p>
  <em> The watch. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The watch. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The watch. </em>
</p><p>It was lying on the ground, flipped open on its quadrant. </p><p><em> Shattered</em>.</p><p>She stared at it. <em> Just stared at it</em>. It felt as if her lids were glued open. And every nerve in her body had stopped functioning at once. To her ears, the barking of a dog and the lazy tweet of sparrows felt distant, muffled. It was all narrowed down to that picture. </p><p>She ignored the horn honking at her back, and ignored the voices of the residents yelling at her to get out of the way. Her neck turned like one of a doll. There was a car. A family in it. </p><p>The dinner she had made was lying on the ground, spilling out from the upturned basket.</p><p>The man in the car stepped out, and the gravel crunched under his soles. "Miss? Did you hear me? I said you need to move from the gate." </p><p>"Where…" she couldn't stop observing the basket, "where is Vegeta?"</p><p>"Sorry?" The man said, confused.</p><p>"V...Vegeta… he was there. <em> There </em> you see? Right...there." Her trembling hand didn't get up, nor stretched toward the point she wanted to aim for.</p><p>"Miss, are you alright? Should I call an ambulance?" </p><p>"Vegeta. Where is he?" </p><p>"Honey, this woman is in a state of shock. I think we should call a---"</p><p>"<b>Where is my Vegeta?!</b>" Her scream tore through the air, her whole body bent backward, suddenly heavy, making the man grab her by her shoulders. </p><p>"Calm down, Miss. We're going to look for the person you're searching for, but you need medical care fir--"</p><p>"<b>Vegeta!"</b> </p><p>She doubled down against the man's hold, her knees giving out. </p><p>"Yamcha get her in the car!" A blue-haired woman stepped out of the sports vehicle, pushing one of her kids inside.</p><p>"But…"</p><p>"Do as I say!"</p><p>"Alright. Alright, but she's strong as hell!"</p><p>"<b>Vegeta</b>!"</p><p>She wailed and cried. She heaved on the ground, calling his name countless times.</p><p>But he never called her name back. </p><p>Not even once.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>---</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> "Summer, summer, is almost here. Time for fun and swimming gears~ duh duh duh" </em>
</p><p>The empty room was filled with the joyous off-beat of two puppets singing on the television. </p><p>
  <em> "Trips on the beach are always such fun, along with-" </em>
</p><p>Scattered bags of chips and empty cartons of juice littered the large sofa in the room.</p><p>Outside, the strong buzzing of cicadas announced this was going to be a particularly hot season.</p><p>A pair of short legs swung from a stool. Rapt, sharp, and blue irises followed the quick crafting of deft, little hands. </p><p>The kid scratched his lilac head, grimacing at the metallic circlet in his hands. "Was this piece supposed to go here...? Mama!" </p><p>He jumped off the seat, running out of the living room with his hands stretched out like the wings of a plane. </p><p>"Mom?!"</p><p>"What? I'm busy in the lab!" Another voice shouted back, from downstairs.</p><p>The music of the television continued to play in the distance.</p><p>"I need gears for my school project!" He lamented, "It’s due for tomorrow!"</p><p>"You wouldn't have had problems if you didn't procrastinate 'till today, hon. You know how it works, your trouble…"</p><p>"You’re the solution. I know!" He reached the lab, meeting with a short-haired woman that was leaning in on an old statuette with a brush in her teeth and a tiny chisel in one hand.</p><p>"Mommy come on! I need material." He jumped up and down, his nose barely grazing the working table.</p><p>She removed her goggles, arching a brow at him.</p><p>"Please! Mommy. Mama. Beautiful lady!"</p><p>She smirked, removing the brush from her mouth. "You're a little arse kisser. I don't really know who you took after. But fine. There should be some pieces in some drawer up there. Just take what you need and don't mess around."</p><p>"Yay! Yup, okay, thanks!"</p><p>Trunks took a chair and tossed it in front of a high closet, climbed on it, and flung open a couple of drawers testing the fishing for what he needed. </p><p>"Uh, lucky!" He eureka'ed, grabbing on a bunch of metallic scraps from the back of a drawer.</p><p>Then, he disappeared upstairs again.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>A few hours later, hell and earth connected in the form of a piercing voice.</p><p>"Trunks!" </p><p>His name, shrieked like the cawing of a hunting crow, made the line of Trunks’ shoulders jump a bit. He grimaced. That wasn't a good sign.</p><p>"Trunks! You didn't take the pieces that were in the middle drawer, did you? I told you to search in the top one!"</p><p>He took his finished project in his hands and ran for his life with it downstairs. "No, I didn't!" He lied, slamming the front door of the shop open, and headed to the little tree-but-without-tree-house his mother had built for him outside. </p><p>But his escape plan got thwarted at its onset. He tripped over something, and the project in his hand rolled away from his grip, tapping against the shoe of a pedestrian. </p><p>"Ow, ow, ow." Trunks massaged the bump on his forehead. When his bright, weepy blue eyes reopened again; the object he had lost was swinging in front of his face. </p><p>"There you are, you little piece of artwork! I swear if you think you're going to get away with this, you'll be greatly disappointed! Gosh, you run like a gazelle... I'm young but not a kid any-" </p><p>As Bulma's steps slowed down, her angry, fuming face progressively slacked.</p><p>Trunks jumped on his feet and shook his hands in front of his face. "Mom I swear I didn't do it on purpose! They were there and free and… uh… mama?"</p><p>The kid tilted his head, his curious gaze bouncing between the stranger who stood next to him, and his mother's shocked expression.</p><p>"Uhm...hey... what's going on?"</p><p>The towering figure next to him moved his gaze slantwise, dropping his dark irises on him, and on what he was hugging against his little chest. Trunks recoiled close to his mother, intimidated.</p><p>Then the man's gaze returned on his mom. </p><p>"Uhhh… Someone can tell me what's happening here?" The kid tugged at his mother's overalls, with his nose up in the air. But she continued to stare at the strange man with the odd hair as if she'd just seen a phantom.</p><p>"Mom, who's this person? Mom? Why are you crying? Mom? Mama?" </p><p>The next thing Trunks felt was a rush of air, and the next thing he saw was his mom hugging that stranger as tightly as possible.</p><p>He cocked a brow, confused.</p><p>"Am I...still in trouble?" He asked. </p><p>The hands of the brand new watch in his arms slowly ticked forward.</p><p>
  <em> This time, at the right time. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello, this is the end. </p><p>Well, it was a really nice ride. I must admit I grew really fond of this version Bulma and Vegeta. Even if it was short, compared to my other works, this one gave me a lot of satisfaction. Probably and mostly, because it's finished. Lol.</p><p>Thanks to all those who read, left a comment and liked the story. </p><p>I know, you might still have some questions... but...<br/>maybe there is a reason for that ;)</p><p>A huge, hyper, mega thank you to Ruthlesscupcake. That worked hard on every chapter even when she was sick or had real life things going on. </p><p>You know how much I appreciate your support and suggestions. Again, this fic could not have been what it is without you. ❤️❤️❤️ Thanks a million.</p><p>A hyper mega super hyper huge thank also to Rogue_1102, that not only is my adorable spouse but helped me with my horrible grammar and always has my back. Love you. </p><p>Both of you. So so so much!</p><p>And I love you readers. That always wait centuries to read my stuff. But still wait. 😭😭😭 Thanks! Thanks! Thanks!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wanted to write some sappy and long appreciation note for a person in particular, who followed this fic from the very beginning. Who was not only supportive but also gave me important indications to bring out the best from my idea. </p><p>Thank you <b>Ruthlesscupcake.</b></p><p>Not only for being a formidable motivator, beta, and writer but for being one of the best people one can meet in a lifetime. They should update the dictionary and put your name and your pic under the definition of a best friend. </p><p>Also thanks to all my dungeon's babes (<b>Lady_Red, Rogue, Are_oian, Ni21, Blackswan</b>) who helped and motivated me through the creation of this mini-beast. Love you.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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